I spent three years as a substitute, without a single chance to play.
Nobody knew that for those three years, I got up at four every morning to practice shooting, come rain or shine.
One hundred million times.
A full hundred million.
When I took my final shot, I discovered I had gained an ability
Whenever I kicked the ball, it would go in.
No matter how far away I was, how many people stood in my way, or where the goalkeeper was.
A guaranteed goal, every time.
In a World Cup qualifying do-or-die match, Longguo was trailing India 0–4, with ten minutes of stoppage time left.
Our star striker was carried off with a serious injury. Fans began leaving early, and the stadium roared with abuse.
The coach crouched at the sidelines, head in his hands, saying nothing.
I stood up and took off my jacket.
“Coach, let me play.”
He looked up at me, his eyes filled with despair and confusion.
“We can win.”
He probably thought I was crazy.
But when I blasted the ball into the top corner from forty meters out, the entire stadium fell silent.
The fans who had been leaving stopped in their tracks.
The people who had been cursing me gaped.
A little boy, crying as his father dragged him away, wrenched free and ran back.
Ten minutes.
Five goals.
The whole world thought it was impossible.
But they didn't know
Every shot I take in this life will go in.
This isn't a System. I earned it with one hundred million shots.
